


Thorns, Puddle Jumpers, and Cartwheels

by rushingwind



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Humor, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal, Sexual Content, Sexual Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-21
Updated: 2013-10-21
Packaged: 2017-12-30 01:40:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1012505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rushingwind/pseuds/rushingwind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Of all possible images that could go through his head at this particular moment in time, he was envisioning Evan Lorne doing cartwheels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thorns, Puddle Jumpers, and Cartwheels

Dear god in heaven, of all possible images that could go through his head at this particular point in time, he was envisioning Evan Lorne doing cartwheels.

Under normal circumstances, he would have just fixed his eyes on some interesting spot on the wall and studied it to distract the four brain cells that were still working. But John Sheppard was in a very small, very _dark_ closet, and there was no light to see anything by, nor was there room to turn and look for something to stare at. In fact, there was just barely enough room for the both of them in there.

And besides, the good Major’s mouth on his cock had a very distracting effect.

So no, he could safely establish that these were _not_ normal circumstances at all.

And of course, the question that begged to be asked, why the hell were they having sex in a closet, anyway? The list of rendezvous spots was getting more and more ridiculous: the sparring room, the rear of a puddle jumper, an off-world forest (under a tree, no less), a _public_ balcony within sight of the gate room, and now they were cramped in a closet barely big enough for one person that was only two rooms over from the infirmary.

If he had been able to see in the pitch-black closet, he probably would have been embarrassed--well, if he'd ever had the good grace for such a thing as embarrassment, anyway. He was flattened up against the wall and only partially clothed (in fact, other than the upper part of the left arm, he wasn't quite sure what was still intact in the way of his shirt). Evan was crammed against him, his fingers digging into his hips, and being none too gentle about the obscene things he was doing down there.

And this brought Sheppard back to the unbelievably hilarious image playing over and over in his mind. Vainly, he tried to worm his right arm around to grab something--no, _anything_ \--that might give him something else to focus on, but a remaining portion of his shirt was snagged on something, and he couldn't move. So he tried with his left arm, but still no luck.

“Lorne…” he groaned, but the Major hit a particularly sensitive spot, and he consequently forgot about cartwheels for a few seconds…at least until he unconsciously began to laugh.

The mouth moving on him slowed and came to a halt, and Sheppard could hear the amusement in Lorne’s voice. “You know, I've never had anyone _laugh_ while I was doing this before.”

When Major Lorne had first come to Atlantis, Sheppard hadn't had much time to get acquainted. The siege of Atlantis by the Wraith had just ended, and many parts of the city were still being repaired. Combine that with the fact that Ford was god-only-knew-where, and that Bates had been injured prior to the siege? Sheppard was _very_ unhappy and wasn't in the mood to train a new second-in-command. Right after that the order had come in to return to Earth along with Rodney and Elizabeth, so he hadn't seen Lorne for a month.

When the Daedalus finally returned them to Atlantis, he’d gone seeking out Major Lorne for a report, and found him in the sparring room. With Teyla. Doing a _Keanu Reeves impersonation_.

Or perhaps, more accurately, he was reenacting a scene out of the Matrix Trilogy.

To Teyla's credit, she managed to keep a straight face while watching the Major cartwheel around with an unloaded gun in hand as he tried to imitate super slow-mo combat, though she looked immensely entertained. 

First, it made John laugh and laugh until his stomach hurt, because really, what kind of lonely, girlfriend-less idiot reenacted scenes out of _The Matrix_?

But then it made him angry. 

Teyla and Lorne began meeting regularly for sparring sessions, and John began to hide nearby and watch. At first he would watch them and laugh, and then he’d stare in jealousy. He would watch Teyla with a pointed stare and unnameable irritation, then watch Lorne and he’d feel an entirely different reaction coming on. He stalked them so much, in fact, that it became common knowledge among the Marines. And that was how Lorne came to find out about it.

The Marines in the city had given him hell over his ‘jealousy’ of Lorne’s friendship with Teyla--and John never did bother to correct them. It was a good cover, in any case, because explaining that it was actually Teyla’s friendship with Lorne that made him burn would have made for an awkward conversation.

A humorous voice returned John to the present. “Hello up there? Anybody home?”

“Yeah, sorry. Something was digging into my back.” It was a terrible lie, but the truth would've taken too much time to explain. He made a mock show of grasping behind his back. “Eh, at least we’re not in the puddle jumper this time. Now, back to business.”

“Hmm? What was wrong with the puddle jumper? It was great after that time on PCX-483—.”

“Hey! I thought we weren't going to bring that up _ever_ again. Hell, this closet is _comfortable_ when compared to that place. And besides, I learned my lesson. No more sex in strange, off-world forests.”

“Like I was about to say, at least there were no poisonous, barbed thorns on the puddle jumper.”

“Lorne!” Trying to explain why poisonous barbs had ended up in _curious_ places to the infirmary staff had been one of the least pleasant experiences of his life, and John resolved to eventually banish it to the depths of his subconscious mind--just as soon as Evan shut up about it.

There was a short pause, and then he heard a chuckle. Almost immediately Lorne’s mouth was on him again, and without the image of cartwheels playing in his head, John’s mind slipped into oblivion and made him want to scream (which, considering that there was a sizable number of people two rooms over, was a really bad idea). He gripped something on the side of the closet (Lorne’s shoulders, perhaps?) and clenched his teeth as he came, stars exploding behind his eyes.

He collapsed against the corner, panting heavily as he felt Lorne get to his feet in front of him, his voice all slyness and silver. “You know, I think you’re going to need some new clothes.”

John laughed. “Yeah, well, getting new clothes isn't the problem. The tricky part is getting back to my quarters _without_ them. How am I supposed to explain that away?” 

“I think your pants are intact. Mostly.” His response sounded incredibly smug, and Sheppard could only imagine the insane grin that had to be on his face.

“You probably don’t look so good yourself.” He pushed away from the wall, entangling himself further with Evan in his attempt to reach around them and open the door. His hand finally grasped the control switch (he could only imagine why the Ancients designed their closets so they could be locked from both outside _and_ inside) and they all but tumbled out of the cramped space.

Their first thoughts had been about making a quiet exit. But they both froze in front of the tall mirror nearby and nearly died with laughter at the sight. Sheppard’s shirt was all but gone, shreds of black cloth hanging off of various points. And Lorne, while his clothing remained intact, was loosened, twisted, and pulled out of place so much that it was quite obvious what he’d been up to.

”I think we’re both going to need a change of clothes,” John snickered, reaching over in a mock attempt to repair Lorne’s vest.

“Colonel, with all due respect, I don’t think there’s anything you can do to fix my clothing.”

This time, it was Sheppard with the wicked grin as he reached over and began to remove Lorne’s vest. “Now, Major, I’m sure there’s _something_ I could do...”

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the LJ community sg_rarepairing's ficathon in 2006. I was prompted with, "adult Sheppard/Lorne with humor, guns, and cartwheels, and no fluff or mpreg." At the time, having written neither slash nor humor, I panicked quite a lot (even though I'd read a fair share of both), but the fic turned out quite well, I believe.
> 
> I cannot neglect to mention my beta, even all these years later. Thank you to the lovely LJ user purple_cube.


End file.
